


Welcome Home

by loveydoveyecstasy



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Homecoming fic, M/M, Military AU, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveydoveyecstasy/pseuds/loveydoveyecstasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two years since Charles was deployed to Afghanistan, and Erik can't wait to pick him up at the airport.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> One of the millions of AUs Corpus and I churn out when we're bored, apparently. Enjoy.

The airport was crowded, full of people with determined looks and rolling bags rushing through the halls, searching for their gate, terrified of being left behind.

Erik was not one of those people. He was standing in the waiting area just outside of the gate flashing “Arrival from London.” To the average passerby, he looked bored and mildly irritated at being in the large, New York airport. His arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall, watching the flashing screens for a sign that the disembarking process had begun.

He looked, for all intents and purposes, as though he were bored out of his mind and ready to rush out at any moment.

Nobody would have guessed that inside, he was practically vibrating with excitement and clenching his fists in order to keep himself still. The sharp pain of his nails biting into his palms kept him from releasing the frustrated whining noises he was trying desperately to keep back.

Finally, the sign switched from “Arrival from London” to a blank screen, signaling the departure of the passengers.

Erik straightened up and shoved his hands in his pockets, watching the gate as people began to filter through. Most of the passengers looked exhausted, and a little bit frazzled. Some looked as though they had just woken up. Erik didn’t care the least for them. He ignored the family and friends reuniting at the gate, ignored the airport staff who were helping an elderly man with a cane.

There was only one person Erik had eyes for, and he was finally stepping off of the plane. He looked different from when Erik had last seen him—which was Christmas of last year, and here it was September, close to a full year later—but it was certainly him.

Charles.

And although Erik wasn’t a crier—he hadn’t even cried when Charles had kissed him goodbye at the gate when he first left for Afghanistan—Erik felt his vision begin to blur as tears welled up in his eyes at the sight of his husband come home to him. Charles’ brilliant smile as he caught sight of Erik blurred and went fuzzy around the edges as the tears began to spill down Erik’s cheeks.

Charles, to his credit, was grinning widely, although he looked exhausted. He was stuck behind a slow moving family, and struggled to see Erik over their heads. But he was there, and he was smiling and happy and whole, and Erik couldn’t have asked for more.

Finally, when the parents corralled their children into the seating area nearby, Charles was free. Clutching his carry-on tightly, his footsteps came faster, until he was sprinting the last few yards to where Erik was standing, dropping his bag beside Erik and wrapping him up in a fierce hug. Erik clung to him tightly, tears still spilling down his face as he bit back quiet sobs.

“Shhh, pet, don’t cry,” Charles murmured in his ear, his own voice thick with emotion. “I’m home. I’m here.”

“I know,” Erik replied. “That’s why I’m crying.”

They shared a quiet laugh, Erik’s far more watery than Charles’, but didn’t pull apart. Erik buried his face in Charles’ neck, just breathing in the scent of him, still not quite believing he was real.

“You grew a beard,” Charles murmured against his hair, clearly tickled.

“I did. I needed a new change.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

“I’ll shave it,” Erik replied, sniffling as his tears finally slowed.

Finally, they pulled apart, and Erik allowed himself to really look at Charles.

He looked exhausted. Wrung out. There were circles under his eyes, and his skin—deeply tanned and freckled from the dessert sun—was sallow around the edges. His close-cropped hair showed signs of grease, and he held himself as if about to pass out at any moment.

“Was the flight rough?” Erik asked, concerned.

“No.” Charles shook his head. “Just too excited to get home to sleep on the flight.”

That set Erik off again. The tears began anew, and Charles was immediately back in his arms.

“Stop that,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Erik’s temple as he cradled him close. “I hate seeing you cry.”

“Sorry,” Erik replied, pulling away and wiping his eyes. “Just couldn’t help myself. I’ve missed you.”

Charles’s expression softened even more, and he looked like he might cry himself.

“And I missed you. But I’m tired, and I kind of just want to go home and crawl into bed with you, baby. Can we do that?”

“Yeah,” Erik replied, immediately bending down to pick up Charles’s dropped carry-on. “We can do that. I have dinner in the oven for you if you’re hungry.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Charles said, smiling warmly up at him. He took Erik’s free hand and together they wandered over to the luggage claim, watching the suitcases go round and round the carousel, until Charles’s giant duffel bag came around. He grabbed it off of the conveyor belt, and together they left the airport.

The drive home was a silent one, Erik too overcome with emotion to speak, Charles too tired to make conversation. They held hands in the middle the entire drive back to their small house tucked away in a secluded part of downtown.

Erik refused to let Charles carry in his bags, insisting instead that he go on in and get his plate out of the oven. Charles eventually agreed, too worn out to make much of a fuss. By the time Erik got both bags inside and put away for the night, Charles was halfway through the chicken and potatoes Erik had made earlier. The look of utter pleasure on his face made Erik smile broadly and come over to press a kiss to his temple. Charles smiled up at him, mouth full of food. He chewed and swallowed before speaking.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed real food.”

“I can imagine. Military rations sound awful.” Erik carded his fingers through Charles’ hair, frowning at the lack of it.

“Your hair is too short.”

“I know. Standard military cut, though.”

“You’re going to grow it back out, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Charles replied, leaning back into Erik’s hand and putting his fork down, the plate completely empty.

“Come on. Bed. You look like you’re about to pass out at any second now.”

“I certainly feel like it,” Charles replied, yawning as if on cue. Erik kissed his temple again before taking his plate and fork and putting both in the dishwasher, then turned around to tug Charles back to their bedroom.

“Well hello,” Charles said as he paused in the doorway, blinking at the orange and white striped cat curled up on the middle of the bed. “You must be Bella.”

The cat meowed at him in response.

“Yes, and she’s been a little brat the past few days,” Erik said, shooing the cat off of the bed. “You can get to know Charles tomorrow.”

Charles smiled as the cat wrapped around his ankles and feet before slinking off into the living room.

“She seems sweet enough.”

“Just you wait,” Erik said, shaking his head. Charles simply smiled at him and shut the door behind himself before going to tug a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt out of his bag, quickly changing into them before crawling into bed and under the covers.

“Tired?” Erik asked, smiling fondly at him.

“Mhm.” Charles nodded, curling up with an arm underneath his pillow. “Have you been hugging this? It feels more worn in than when I left.”

Erik’s blush was more than enough of an answer. Charles smiled at him and patted the empty side of the bed.

“Come here.”

“In a second,” Erik murmured, going to grab his own pajamas out of the dresser, changing into them and crawling into bed, easily tucking himself under Charles’ arm.

“I’m sorry I’m not much fun,” Charles murmured, his eyes drifting closed. “I’m just tired.”

“It’s okay, ahavah. I don’t mind. I’m just glad you’re home.”

Charles’s smile at the endearment was worth the two years of waiting for him.

“Mmkay. I love you, Erik.”

“Love you too, Charles.”

Erik leaned in and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to Charles’s lips. He was already half asleep by the time Erik pulled away. But Erik was still wide awake, and took his time to simply drink in the sight of his husband lying in bed beside him again, looking utterly content at his current situation. His muscles were thicker than before, and Erik traced them with light fingertips, enjoying the sight of them. He’d love to test their limits as soon as Charles was feeling up to it.

“Good night, ahavah,” Erik murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead before settling back down against the bed, one hand resting over Charles’s heart as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. 


End file.
